


luminously full of love

by HiddenEye



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 21:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: Let’s see.The man Asra has under him is looking at him as if he’s just committed a crime, a crime that has something to do with how the moon glows a Cheshire’s grin and the stars shine a glittery mass of beauty. It’s a hilarious mix of wonder and faint mortification, of familiarity that comes from the days of their childhood and the soothing breeze of knowing a good friend for as long as they have.





	luminously full of love

**Author's Note:**

> First arcana fic! Enjoy!

Let’s see.

The man Asra has under him is looking at him as if he’s just committed a crime, a crime that has something to do with how the moon glows a Cheshire’s grin and the stars shine a glittery mass of beauty. It’s a hilarious mix of wonder and faint mortification, of familiarity that comes from the days of their childhood and the soothing breeze of knowing a good friend for as long as they have.

Asra tilts his head to the side, reaches out to take the large hands that have been useless on the sheets, fingers twitching from uncertainty, and brings them to his waist.

Muriel releases a breath he doesn’t realise he’s holding, chest heaving out a short burst of air as he tries to catch himself. It’s not a move he would do, not something he would start, but Asra’s here to show him. Asra’s here, sitting on this man’s thighs as they occupy the bed, palms covered above Muriel’s hands while he watches the way Muriel looks at him as if he’s forcing him to be a felon.

Funny man, Asra thinks fondly. Funny, funny man.

Asra leans forward, lets his face hover over Muriel’s until a waft of warm breath hits his cheek, those hands that have been touching Muriel smooths up the length of his arms, feels how those old scars stitched across his limbs bump under his touch.

Let’s see.

The man Asra has under him is staring at him through the strands of his hair, emerald greens searing into the middle of his chest until Asra feels his skin prickle from such unwavering attention; he knows that look, has seen it during the times when they’ve been younger, has seen it in the ballroom when Asra decides he wants this man more than anything. It’s when he knows that giving a damn means _everything_ when he finally figures out what that look means.

Raw adoration. Complete and thoroughly smitten. Perhaps those have been so much innocent when they were still playing in the fields and bellowing out the words of knights, but now. _Now,_ it’s morphed into a deeper essence of its being. Now, Asra finally sees the actual meaning of those softening eyes everytime they land on him.

He has been so blind.

“Asra,” Muriel rumbles out, a question humming underneath his name when Asra drags his fingers up his shoulders, and it sends a thrill down his spine at how ridiculously huge this man, this sweet man, has become over the years. It’s no secret of the looks Asra has stolen to have a glimpse of him, just to admire his figure for a while, and how those arms would do to him in times when the need is high before he’s looking away. Nadia’s caught him once, eyebrow arching high, but the smile he gives her is the only thing he’s able to offer.

She doesn’t buy it. She knows him too well to fall for his bluff.

And now, as Asra cups his jaw to tilt his head, he finds it hard to believe he only thought of Muriel as a brother in arms when the things they’ve done for each other has always been in the other’s best interest. Perhaps it’s been a little intimate in some ways, where Asra has let his touch linger a little longer and the insistence Muriel has when he wants to help shines through in the most possible ways.

Sometimes, it leaves Asra breathless, this bond they have. Muriel’s his best friend, after all, it’s expected for him to feel so utterly fond of the man for more times than he can count.

He knows the real reason now.

“Asra.” Muriel says again, but it’s hushed, a little knowing, firelight dancing onto the expanse of his skin while he lets himself be touched. Asra marvels at how handsome this man is, so pliant he’s gotten underneath what attention that’s been given.

Asra combs his fingers through the dark ink hair, leans forward until his red bitten mouth presses onto the corner of his lips, eliciting a small groan that rips out of Muriel as the man tightens his grip onto his waist.

The vibration Muriel gives out rattles Asra to his core, and then he’s kissing the spot a little harder, dragging his lips to his chin at the same time Muriel brings his fingers between the cheeks of his drenched ass. The way a thick finger teases the rim of his hole causes his cock to twitch, and Asra’s breathing a little heavily, hips rolling against Muriel’s with desperate grinds.

Muriel growls, one that has Asra gasping when arms snake tightly around him, pulling him flush against his wide chest as Muriel catches his lips into a searing kiss, demanding and as needy as Asra is as he holds onto the sides of his face for purchase.

It’s feeling the way the thick cock he rode on not more than fifteen minutes ago stirs again, rubbing insistently against his own hard self that has Asra grind more into him, encouraging him to retaliate, anything for the fire simmering hotly underneath the thin layer of his flesh.

“Muriel,” he gasps, wanting him, wanting him more than anything when those fingers dip more into his hole, just shallow enough until it’s having it stopped to the middle of his finger. Asra bites onto his bottom lip. “I don’t need that. You’ve loosened me enough.”

Muriel hums thoughtfully, and then he’s pushing his finger more into Asra until he swallows it to the knuckle. “I know.”

It makes Asra let out a short burst of laughter, incredulous, but then, he’s leaning back, feels the way Muriel rubs at his walls. “And? You’re just going to make me suffer like this?”

He reaches for the vial of olive oil by the bedside cabinet, the echo of the tapper being pulled opened rings throughout the hut as Muriel lets his thumb press beside his finger. A breath hitches out of Asra when Muriel hooks it onto his rim, his hand stuttering to pour the oil onto his palm as it spills messily onto his chest.

“Fuck,” Asra whispers, eyes fluttering close when another finger pushes in, stretching him wide with how Muriel scissors his fingers apart. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolls back against it again, hand swiping down to scoop up the dripping oil from his chest before he wraps his fingers around Muriel, already familiar with the girth as he pumps the length with enthusiasm, swallowing the groan Muriel lets out with a swoop of a kiss that has teeth clicking against one another.

It’s pressing a thumb against the thick vein of his cock before dragging it up his length in one languid stroke. It’s swiping it above the slit of his head before going down his length again in an agonising pace. It’s kissing Muriel with tongue and teeth and rocking back into the three fingers that’s stuffed into his hole.

“This is taking forever,” Asra snipes, nipping into his lip again.

That is probably the wrong thing to say, because it takes him a second to realise the arm wrapped around his waist is being used as an anchor for Muriel to twist them around; Asra finds himself pushed into the straw mattress, fingers still stuffing him full, breath knocked out of him from the impact until the bed frame squeaks underneath their weight.

Asra finds himself staring at Muriel, swallowing in breaths as the man above him suddenly has a concerned frown on his brow, looking over Asra as if he’s actually hurt him enough from the change of positions.

“You okay?” Muriel asks tentatively, and Asra laughs, delighted, and wiggles onto the fingers that are still buried deep in him.

“Don’t stop,” Asra teases, using his slicked up hand to cup Muriel, squeezing in assurance that has him keeling over slightly. “I definitely enjoyed that. You know you could use your strength again.” Asra lifts one shoulder up. “No pressure, or whatever.”

Muriel stares at him, unsure. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I just rode you, I think I’ll be alright.” Asra emphasises this by giving Muriel another squeeze.

Muriel gasps, grabbing the hand fondling him and pulling both hands above Asra’s head, staring down at him with something dark in his eyes.

It causes a shiver to zap down his spine, allowing Asra to move in one languid stretch from how he’s bounded by the grip around his wrists, satisfaction humming in his bones at how limited he’s allowed to move in the stretch of his muscles. It’s pushing his chest into Muriel’s, wanting to touch, wanting to feel.

The sudden retraction of his fingers has Asra whining out in protest, leaving him feel exceptionally empty as he clenches around nothing. “Muriel—“

But then, Asra finds his legs pushed to his stomach, exposing himself more to Muriel’s gaze before he’s sinking home into the tight space of Asra’s hole until he’s hissing out his satisfaction.

“ _Yes,_ ” Asra says through his teeth, feels the way Muriel sinks deeper with a grunt, jerking forward until they’re connected to the hilt, causing both of them to groan. _He’s so huge_ , Asra thinks giddily. He could stay like this for a long time. He could have Muriel’s cock in him for hours and he’ll be _content_.

Muriel mouths behind his ear, moves shallowly for a moment that has Asra going mad from the slow pace. He needs this, he needs this, but he needs it to be faster, he needs Muriel in the way his strength is represented in the bulge of his arms and the slope of his shoulders. Asra wants Muriel to use it on him, but he’s holding back. Muriel is holding back because he thinks he might hurt Asra, he thinks his bulking physique will harm him in any way.

Asra wants that to be used on him, wants the strength he’s seen in the arena when Muriel had been swinging his sword to be used on him.

Asra clenches around him, and it makes Muriel stutter.

“Faster,” Asra whispers harshly, turning his head to the side to nose Muriel up so that he can see his face. “Want you to ruin me until I can’t walk properly, like I’m your toy. Fuck me.” He clenches again, swallowing the gasp that’s been punched out of Muriel with a biting kiss. “ _Fuck_ me.”

Asra should be proud with how convincing he can be, because the next moment, the excitement in the low growl Muriel makes as he hooks his ankle onto his shoulder has Asra preening; and then Muriel slams home without mercy, before Asra’s arching his back for the cock he demands as a keen escapes his lips.

It’s merciless then — Muriel is relentless as he fucks Asra against his bed, still pressing his wrists into the mattress as his cock drags against his sensitive walls with one long pull before going in again with a jerk that shakes the bed. It leaves Asra baring the long column of his throat to him, head tilting back as he takes and takes what Muriel gives so greedily.

Asra chokes out when Muriel rails against his sweet spot, and it makes the large man pause, clearly noticing the reaction as he regards Asra for a moment until he’s pushing himself against Muriel again.

“Muriel, what are you—“

Without warning, Muriel pulls back until the tip of his cock settles near his rim, before he slams forward into his prostate with one unforgivable snap that has Asra whining out, toes curling mid-air before Muriel pulls out again, and fucking him at the same spot that has Asra seeing stars.

“ _Please.”_ Asra gasps out wetly, feeling the way he’s been railed, how Muriel is starting to pant into his ear from where his face is buried into Asra’s hair. “I’m so close. I’m so—“

“No.” Muriel growls, causing Asra to whine again when his prostate is being rubbed against so punishingly.

“ _Muriel_ —“

“Later,” Muriel says, wrapping his hand around Asra before squeezing the head. “For now, _no._ ”

Muriel snaps his hips into Asra, and he keens, thrashing uselessly in his hold.

It’s feeling the way Muriel stutters in his pace, clearly close, and Asra can’t do anything but tilt his head to catch him into a kiss, taking him, sucking his lip, hips meeting up halfway to his thrusts. It’s how Muriel stiffens above him as waves of pleasure crash onto him, filling Asra up with his come with a burst of warmth as he teeth sinks into shoulder, a groan escaping while the hand he has on Asra’s cock halts its ministrations as well.

Asra sobs, his own pleasure still taut, and the hand Muriel has on him isn’t helping the situation any better when he’s riding the last of his orgasm on Asra. Muriel’s kissing down the side of neck, absolutely soft in his touches that those lips merely graze across his sweaty skin, and then Muriel is tightening his hold onto Asra’s cock again that he wants to cry out in relief the moment a thumb pushes up his length.

It’s having Muriel jerking Asra off while he’s still plugged with Muriel’s cock. It’s Asra reaching up to kiss him again with a desperate raise of his head.

“I got you.” Muriel says quietly against his lips, hovering above him with his dark hair tickling his face. It’s having the meaning of those words, and how it goes straight to his heart, hit Asra so hard that he comes into his palm, a sob wrenching out of his throat as spurts of come paint up his chest as some splatter against his chin.

“I got you.” Muriel murmurs again, pressing a long kiss on his temple as he lets his come-filled hand splay against his hip, holding onto Asra lightly as he catches his breath, tears trickling from the corner of his eyes.

Asra whimpers as Muriel pulls out, leaving him gaping and empty that has he grasping onto nothing, clenching for nothing, come trailing out of him in a steady pace that he feels filthy from it. But, it feels good, it feels good at how absolutely spent he is as he tries to catch his breath. It feels good how he’s going to look as sore as he feels the next morning.

It makes something wicked thwart violently underneath his sternum.

Muriel turns his head to press a soft kiss onto his ankle before putting down his leg, and Asra reaches out for him until he settles into his arms, catching Muriel into another kiss that’s far too soft after everything they’ve done, tasting each other, chest pressed against one another until Asra’s able to feel the flutter of his heart.

“I didn’t hurt you?” Muriel asks through their kiss, hand a feather-touch on the inner side of his thigh as a finger trails around his abused hole, touching his own come in the process.

“No, no,” Asra assures, and then, he’s pressing deeper into their kiss just to prove it. “You didn’t. You never would.”

Muriel sighs. On normal days, he would’ve argued at how untrue this statement holds. For now, he accepts it the way it is as he answers just as kind, gently letting his hand cup onto Asra’s cheek.

Let’s see.

The man Asra has between his legs is the person he wants to spend with for the next of his life; he realises that now after years of not knowing it himself, letting this man get hurt over the decisions Asra’s made in his life before he finally sees to what Muriel will always be to him.

Let’s see.

The man Asra is kissing with is the love of his life.


End file.
